


Make The Yuletide Gay

by WinterSky101



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Friendship, Getting Together, Hanukkah, M/M, Matchmaking, Mistletoe, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSky101/pseuds/WinterSky101
Summary: Adam and the others in Tadfield throw a Christmas party, and they decide to invite Aziraphale and Crowley. There may be an ulterior motive or two involved.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Make The Yuletide Gay

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates!
> 
> In this fic, Aziraphale and Crowley celebrate Hanukkah as well as Christmas, because I believe they would celebrate both. I'm not Jewish myself, however, so if anything I wrote about Hanukkah was incorrect, please let me know. I also made a few references to Anathema celebrating Nochebuena, but I'm not Latina, so again, if anything is incorrect, please let me know.
> 
> Title comes from "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas."

"Why, in the name of all that's unholy," Crowley grumbled, shivering in his thin-but-stylish coat, "do we live somewhere that's so bloody _cold_?"

"Well, perhaps you wouldn't be quite so cold if you wore proper winter attire," Aziraphale replied. He was wearing his usual coat, but underneath, he'd exchanged his button-down and waistcoat for a thick wool sweater, and his coat was buttoned snugly in the front instead of being open the way it usually was in the summer. To complete the outfit, he wore a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a pair of earmuffs.1 With his downy hair and pink-flushed cheeks, he looked like he belonged on a holiday card, and Crowley hated that he found the look so ridiculously endearing.

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, because feigning irritation with Aziraphale was the way he'd hidden his feelings for millennia, and it seemed as good a way as any to keep going. "Or we could live somewhere that isn't freezing," he countered. "Anyway, not like I've got much in the way of body heat anyway. I still am a snake, sort of."

"Hmm," Aziraphale hummed. "Well, I suppose you _do_ have something of a point, my dear. What if we tried this?"

Before Crowley could say a word, Aziraphale shrugged out of his coat. "Angel, what are you doing?" Crowley demanded immediately. "You'll freeze!"

"Oh, I'm not as cold-blooded as you," Aziraphale dismissed. "Besides, I've got my sweater to keep me warm. Now, here we are."

Crowley opened his mouth to say something else, then Aziraphale draped his coat over Crowley's shoulders and Crowley's brain immediately short-circuited.

"There, isn't that nicer?" Aziraphale asked.

"Ngk," Crowley replied.

"Now," Aziraphale said, lacing his fingers in front of his stomach, "I did have something I wanted to discuss with you, if you're amenable. It's about our holiday plans."

"Guh," Crowley replied.

"I know we normally celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas and Epiphany just the two of us," Aziraphale continued, "and of course I'm perfectly happy to continue with that, but I got a call from Adam yesterday, and apparently he's organizing a Christmas party in Tadfield! He plans to invite everyone who was involved in stopping the Apocalypse, and so he'd like for us to be there. What do you think? I believe he's planning on having the party on Christmas Eve, so we'll be able to celebrate Christmas Day on our own."

"Er," Crowley replied.

"I would understand if you were opposed to the idea," Aziraphale added, although he looked a little downcast at the thought. "I think it sounds rather lovely, but if you weren't interested, I wouldn't go either. But I do hope you _are_ interested, my dear. What do you say?"

And then Aziraphale made those eyes that always broke Crowley's resolve in an instant, and his vocal chords immediately bypassed his still non-functional brain and said, "Sure, angel, sounds great."

Aziraphale's face lit up in a way Crowley was firmly convinced should be illegal. "Oh, really? How lovely! I'll telephone Adam when I get back to the shop, then. Oh, Crowley, I think this will be an absolutely wonderful Christmas!"

And Crowley, whose brain was only just starting to reboot itself, wondered what the Hell- Heaven- _Somewhere_ he'd just gotten himself into.

* * *

"Mr. Aziraphale said he and Mr. Crowley will both come to the party!" Adam declared as he entered Jasmine Cottage. "I didn't even have to do any messing around to get them to agree."

"You wouldn't do that, would you?" Anathema asked with a frown.

"Not _that_ sort of messing around," Adam replied in a tone of voice that implied that should have been obvious. "Just harmless messing around. You know, the sort where you tell them you really wanted them to come, and the party wouldn't be the same without them, and then they feel so guilty they do whatever you want. That's how it works with my parents, anyway."

Anathema privately thought there might have been some of the other sort of messing around happening there too, if subconsciously, but she didn't mention that to Adam. Instead, she just put big check marks next to Aziraphale and Crowley's names on her invite list and gave it a sharp nod.

"That's everyone, then. And you're sure your parents and your friends' parents will all be okay with you being gone on Christmas Eve?"

"We won't be far away," Adam reasoned. "Just down the street. And it's not like we do much on Christmas Eve anyway. Just wait around for Christmas, mostly."

Anathema, whose family had mostly celebrated Nochebuena on December 24 and rested on December 25, didn't quite understand this British tradition of doing nothing on Christmas Eve and everything on Christmas Day, but she supposed the party could end up being fairly similar to her usual Nochebuena celebration, especially if she took control of the kitchen. Given her competition, Anathema thought her chances of being in charge of the menu were good. Newt would listen to anything she said, she didn't think any of the children should be trusted in a kitchen, and she doubted Shadwell knew how to cook at all. Given the fact that Aziraphale and Crowley lived in London and most likely wouldn't arrive early enough to help with any preparations, that left no other potential cooks but Madame Tracy, and Anathema thought she could probably talk her around.

"I've been thinking about what Madame Tracy said," Adam stated suddenly, making Anathema wonder, and not for the first time, if Adam could read minds. "Last time she was here."

"Which thing that she said?" Anathema asked, hoping she wasn't about to find out that Adam had overheard any of the sex tips Madame Tracy had given her.2

"About Mr. Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley," Adam said. "About how they're in love with each other, but they won't admit it."

"Oh." Honestly, Anathema had been surprised to hear that when Madame Tracy said it; she'd assumed the two men who'd hit her with their car and stole her book were married or at least seeing each other, especially given the way the tall lanky one had called the softer one "angel." But Madame Tracy had shared a body with Aziraphale, which made her something of an authority on him within their little group, and she claimed that in his mind, there was a frankly ridiculous amount of pining for Crowley going on. "It's too bad," she'd said with a sigh. "Poor dear is convinced saying a word will ruin everything, and then meanwhile, the way that Mr. Crowley _looks_ at him!" Everyone had agreed to that; with the way Crowley looked at Aziraphale, it seemed difficult to believe that anyone seeing the two of them could have any doubt how in love he was. Their whole group had been fairly convinced of it, after all, and equally convinced that Aziraphale was clearly in love with Crowley.

Apparently, the only people who couldn't see it were Aziraphale and Crowley themselves.

"Anyway," Adam says, "I was thinking about what Madame Tracy said, and then I was thinking about what to get Mr. Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley for Christmas, and then I thought we should set them up."

Anathema blinked. "Set them up? What, like some Hallmark Christmas movie?"

Adam frowned. "What's a Hallmark Christmas movie?"

"Never mind," Anathema said, waving a hand dismissively.3 "What exactly did you mean when you said 'set them up'?"

"Well, I dunno exactly how we'll do it, but I just think we should get them to admit they're in love with each other. It's pretty stupid they haven't done it yet, honestly."

"Look, I'm not disagreeing with you there, but are you sure meddling in their romantic life is the best idea? What if it backfires?"

"It won't," Adam said with the sort of confidence that reminded Anathema that, no matter how sweet and normal a kid Adam seemed to be, he was also the Antichrist and possessor of untold powers. If he said this wouldn't backfire, Anathema had the feeling the universe wouldn't dare let it backfire.

"Besides," Adam added, "Pepper and Wensleydale and Brian all think it's a good idea. And I bet Madame Tracy would too. So we outnumber you, even if you and Newt and Mr. Shadwell don't like it."

Well, Anathema figured, if you can't beat them, join them.

"Then I guess we should probably have another group meeting to figure out exactly how we're gonna do this."

* * *

"Look," Crowley hissed in a low, dangerous voice, "you are not even going to _think_ of setting anything in this bookshop on fire. You are not going to fall over, and if you dare to do that, you will immediately put your flame out. If anything here gets so much as a scorch remark, you will regret it for the rest of your _misssssserable exisssssst_ -"

"Crowley, are you threatening my menorah?"

Crowley looked down at the box of candles. "No."

"Then what on earth are you _doing_?" Aziraphale asked, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of tea. "If you don't think it's a good idea to have flames in the bookshop, you could just say so."

"Nah, it's alright," Crowley dismissed. "They're just little candles, _and they know what'll happen if they disappoint me_."

"Oh, honestly, you're incorrigible," Aziraphale huffed, setting the tray down. He poured Crowley a cup and passed it to him, then poured a second cup for himself. Crowley wrapped his hands around his cup and wondered if it would be rude to change into his snake form and twine his entire body around the teapot to leech as much warmth from it as possible. He decided it probably would be and settled for drinking his tea instead.

"So," Aziraphale declared, "I got a call from Anathema about the party Adam is throwing on Tuesday. Apparently, it'll be at her house, and she asked us if we could bring some wine for the adults and something sparkling but nonalcoholic for the children. I was thinking perhaps we could mull some wine, and then we could mull some cider for the children."

"You can buy glühwein in a shop pre-made," Crowley countered, mostly just to see Aziraphale's face in response.

As Crowley had expected, Aziraphale pulled a magnificently irritated face in response. "We want _real_ mulled wine, not whatever they sell in shops."

"Will the wine be something from your collection, then?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "Well, I'm sure we could find something good if we looked in the right place."

Crowley snickered and sipped his tea.

"I think we probably ought to get presents for everyone as well," Aziraphale added. "Anathema didn't mention anything about it, but it _is_ a Christmas party, after all."

Crowley scowled. "You want me to go buy Christmas presents?"

"I thought you might have better ideas of what to get the children than I would," Aziraphale admitted. "Then I can take care of the presents for the adults, and we'll put both our names on all of them."

Crowley couldn't help but grin. "Split the work and both take credit for it? This sounds like an addition to the Arrangement."

"Are you against it?" Aziraphale countered, lifting his teacup to his lips.

"Nah," Crowley relented, as they'd both known he would. "It's probably for the best if I get the kids' presents. You'd get them books or something."

"What's wrong with books?" Aziraphale asked, slightly wounded.

"Kids don't want _books_ for Christmas," Crowley dismissed. "Well, maybe that nerdy one would-"

"His name is Wensleydale, my dear."

"-But the others wouldn't."

"Then I suppose you ought to buy those gifts, and I'll handle the gifts for the adults," Aziraphale said with a distinct hint of smugness.4

"They're not all going to want books," Crowley warned.

"Well, I think Anathema might be interested in one," Aziraphale countered. "As for the others... I'll figure something out, I'm certain."

"Alcohol is always a good bet," Crowley offered. "Especially for someone like Shadwell."

"Do you think he likes scotch?" Aziraphale asked. "I've got a bottle of scotch I'm not particularly a fan of somewhere around here, perhaps he'd like that."

Crowley shrugged. "Probably, and you can give it to him anyway. If he doesn't like it, that's his problem."

Aziraphale tsked, but Crowley didn't see the problem. What was that human saying, it's the thought that counts? And Shadwell should consider himself lucky he was getting a gift at all, considering the fact that he'd accidentally discorporated Aziraphale and burned down the bookshop. Yes, both of those things had been reversed, but Crowley still hadn't forgiven him. Honestly, he was surprised Aziraphale seemed to have done it already, but then again, he'd never seen the burnt-down bookshop, not like Crowley had.

Of course, there was also the matter of Shadwell embezzling money out of both Crowley and Aziraphale for decades, but honestly, that was just embarrassing, and Crowley would rather think about that as little as possible.

"Perhaps it's best if we coordinate on the gifts," Aziraphale suggested. "We could go shopping together."

"You won't let me get the kids anything cool," Crowley protested.

"The fact that you're saying that makes me even more certain we ought to shop together," Aziraphale said. "Both of our names will be on these gifts, after all. I won't have you get the children something awful like... like..."

"Fireworks?" Crowley suggested. "Big old Roman candles, and shell-and-mortars, and-"

"Oh, Crowley, you wouldn't!"

"Course not," Crowley agreed. "Any enterprising kids could get their hands on those themselves."

"Oh, you are a _menace_!" Aziraphale cried. "Honestly, Crowley, they're _eleven_."

"Old enough to prevent the apocalypse," Crowley replied. "That's got to mean they're old enough to set off fireworks too."

"I am most definitely going to go with you for any and all shopping," Aziraphale declared. "Clearly, you are not to be left to your own devices."

Crowley grinned and let his forked tongue flicker out from behind his teeth. "Yeah, but my way is always more fun."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. Crowley wondered if there were any way he could sneak fireworks into the kids' gifts5 and grinned wider.

"You're planning something," Aziraphale accused.

"Always am," Crowley agreed.

This Christmas party, he was beginning to believe, would actually be rather fun indeed.

* * *

"Oh, this sounds like a lovely idea," Madame Tracy said, clapping delightedly.

Anathema's house had once again been co-opted for a meeting of all the humans and Antichrist-turned-mostly-humans who'd been involved in the Almost-Apocalypse, and Adam had spent the majority of it so far explaining his plan to set Aziraphale and Crowley up at their Christmas party. Anathema, it seemed, was the only one with any reservations about the idea; the Them were all very enthusiastic, Madame Tracy was delighted, Shadwell had somehow been surprised to learn that Aziraphale and Crowley weren't already married6, and Newt had the tendency to go along with a group and thus had gotten carried along in the others' enthusiasm. Anathema still thought they were swimming in dangerous waters in attempting to set up an angel and a demon, no matter how retired they were, but she knew a losing battle when she saw one, so she figured it was probably best if she stuck around and made sure no one went too overboard on the whole thing.

"All we have to do," Adam declared, "is make sure they kiss. Holiday magic will do the rest. Just like in those movies you showed us, Anathema!"

"Those weren't actually meant to be taken as an example-" Anathema began, but she was ignored. She supposed it was probably her own fault for showing the Them a whole bunch of Christmas romcoms when she knew they were planning a set-up like this.

"Now, how do you suggest we do that?" Madame Tracy asked. "I don't think it'll be easy. Aziraphale, at the very least, has wanted that for quite a while and been denying himself."

"Mistletoe?" Newt suggested hesitantly. "It works in the movies sometimes."

Anathema sighed. "Christmas movies aren't actually particularly accurate to real life, you know."

Once again, she was ignored. "That's the little plant that makes you kiss, right?" Adam asked. "We can hang up a whole bunch, it'll be great."

"But what if they don't _want_ to kiss?" Pepper countered. "We shouldn't make anyone kiss if they don't want to."

"And what if they kiss but they still don't get together?" Brian asked.

"He's got a point, actually," Wensleydale agreed. "If they've been pretending not to be in love with each other for a long time, maybe one kiss won't be enough to get them to stop pretending."

"Pepper's got a point too," Anathema added, wondering if anyone was even listening to her. "Mistletoe is only fun if everyone is comfortable with it."

"Well," Adam asked, "are all of you comfortable with having mistletoe? You don't have to kiss on the lips if you don't want to. That _is_ kinda gross."

Madame Tracy was the first to nod, slowly followed by everyone else. Anathema made a mental note not to stand next to Shadwell during the party for any reason whatsoever.

"Then we'll just call Mr. Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley and ask if they're comfortable," Adam declared. It was clear in his tone that he found this eminently reasonable. "If they're alright with it, we'll have mistletoe, and if they're not, we won't. Then everyone agreed to it."

"And what if it doesn't work?" Brian pressured. "Sometimes things that work in movies don't work in real life."

Adam frowned. "I dunno," he admitted. "I didn't really think about that."

"And we're absolutely sure they're not already married?" Shadwell asked.

"No, poor dears," Madame Tracy sighed. "I could always talk to them. Maybe if we talked about passion-"

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," Anathema interrupted. Next to her, Newt shook his head wildly. Both of them had heard far too many of Madame Tracy's discussions about passion to feel comfortable inflicting it on anyone else.

"Well, if it doesn't work, we'll make a new plan," Adam declared. "But I think it will. It's a good plan. I think everything will turn out right."

And Anathema had the feeling that, now that Adam had said that, everything would.

* * *

By the Sunday before the party, Aziraphale and Crowley had absolutely everything ready. Or, almost everything; Aziraphale had insisted on wrapping the presents himself instead of having them wrapped in the store, so while Crowley sat on the couch and snacked on some sufganiyot7, Aziraphale sat at his desk with wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and mounting frustration.

"It looks so simple when other people do it!" Aziraphale protested. "And it always comes out looking so _nice_."

"Yours look fine, angel," Crowley called, popping another sufganiyah into his mouth and swallowing.

"You didn't even look at them!" Aziraphale protested. "And they do _not_ look fine. They look sloppy."

"So what? The paper's gonna get ripped when the present's opened anyway."

"But I want it to look nice!"

"Then miracle it."

"That's not the same."

Crowley let out a long sigh. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it. "Well, I'm not going to wrap them for you."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Aziraphale replied, which was a blatant lie. "I'm sure I can manage."

"Good," Crowley said. "Because I'm not doing it."

Five minutes later, Crowley was hissing at tape that refused to stick where it was supposed to and paper that somehow ended up being smaller than it should have been. "I should tell Hell I've found a new torture for them," he grumbled. He paused for a moment, frowned, and added, "I didn't invent wrapping paper, did I?"

"I don't believe so," Aziraphale replied as he wrestled with his own wrapping. "Oh, dear. Nothing looks quite good enough, does it?"

"We could get gift bags," Crowley suggested. "Put a bit of tissue paper on top, then we're done."

Aziraphale frowned down at the book he was attempting to wrap for Anathema. "Hmm. Perhaps... My dear, would you hold this in place here?"

Crowley abandoned his own wrapping project without a second thought and leaned over to hold Aziraphale's paper in place. Aziraphale hummed and pulled the other end of the wrapping paper taut, then taped it into place. "Now," he said, "could you hold the book in place while I fold the ends?"

"Sure," Crowley agreed, and he did just that as Aziraphale folded the ends as tightly as he could. The resulting wrapping job was more than passable, and Aziraphale beamed down at it.

"There! Apparently, we just need to work together." He offered Crowley a small, almost shy smile. "We _are_ on our own side, after all."

"Always," Crowley agreed, ignoring the way that soft smile and quiet admission made his chest grow warm. "Come here, let's add the ribbon."

Working together, the two of them made quick work of the presents. Aziraphale clapped delightedly as they finished the last one. "There we are! All done. Oh, and just in time for sunset! Time to light the menorah."

Aziraphale's menorah was a beautiful thing, wrought delicately of pure silver. It was in the front window of the bookshop, set on a table that had been carefully cleared of anything even remotely flammable. Crowley had also bought two fire extinguishers for the bookshop, and one of them had been placed right next to the table. With all of those concessions in place8, Crowley felt only a little bit anxious as Aziraphale lit the _shamash_.

Being a demon, Crowley couldn't touch sacred items like the menorah without pain and tended to stumble through his words when he tried to recite ritual prayers, so it was Aziraphale who carefully lit the candle and spoke the blessings over it. "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Hanukkah light," he prayed in Hebrew as he held the lit _shamash_ against the wick of the first candle. "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion."

Crowley _was_ able to sing the Hanerot Halalu, if with a bit more humming and mumbling than Aziraphale, so he sang that and the Maoz Tzur afterwards. The little candles seemed to give off more light and warmth than they should have, but Crowley had been celebrating Hanukkah with Aziraphale for centuries, so he knew that was just what happened with Aziraphale's menorah. He wondered if it would happen with any angel or if it specifically happened with Aziraphale because he was the one who had miracled the original oil to last through all eight nights. To be honest, he wasn't even sure if other angels celebrated holidays. Maybe Aziraphale was the only one.

"It looks so lovely, doesn't it?" Aziraphale asked, beaming at the lit menorah.

"It does," Crowley agreed, but he wasn't looking at the menorah, he was looking at Aziraphale, his face slightly pink in the candlelight and his eyes bright and dancing. "Happy Hanukkah, angel."

Aziraphale turned and redirected his beaming smile at Crowley, who tried not to melt under it. "Happy Hanukkah, my dear."

* * *

"Is there any part of the ceiling that isn't covered in mistletoe?" Anathema asked as she took a quick break from food preparation.

"There's none upstairs," Newt called. He was sitting on the stairs himself, looking warily up at the sprig of mistletoe about a foot in front of him. Anathema got the distinct impression he was hiding from it.

"Madame Tracy, do you think this is a bit much?" Anathema asked. "I mean, people will probably want to walk around without getting kissed every five seconds."

Madame Tracy frowned up at the ceiling. "Well, we do want to make sure Mr. Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley kiss."

"Then we could put some mistletoe in the entrance to the kitchen, and we can send them both in to grab food at some point," Anathema said. "We don't need to cover the ceiling entirely."

Shadwell, who'd been carrying Madame Tracy's step-stool around for her, scowled. "Does that mean we need to take everything back down?"

"Not all of it, but at least half of it," Anathema said. She looked up again and modified her answer. "Or maybe two thirds."

"Do you need any help in the kitchen?" Newt asked, maybe realizing he was in danger of getting roped into helping with the mistletoe and then possibly getting stuck under it with Madame Tracy or, Heaven forbid, Shadwell.

"Sure," Anathema said, taking pity on him. "I'm guessing you're not great with any technical appliances?"

"No," Newt admitted. "But I can chop things!"

Anathema grinned. "Then you'll be my sous-chef. Come on."

Newt carefully made his way over to the kitchen, giving Madame Tracy and Shadwell a wide berth, and picked up a knife. "Where do I start?"

The food preparation went much faster with a partner, and Anathema found that Newt actually was fairly competent in the kitchen, as long as he wasn't touching anything electronic. Shadwell and Madame Tracy redistributed the mistletoe in the living room so it wasn't quite as extreme, although Anathema had the feeling there was still more than was necessary. Maybe she'd make Newt help her take some down overnight. Then the party the next day might be a bit more welcoming and a bit less overwhelming.

"Well," Anathema finally said as she slid the last tray of pre-cut cookie dough into the fridge, "I think we've got everything prepared for tomorrow. I never really appreciated how much my mom did to prepare for Nochebuena before."

"Do you regret not going home for Christmas?" Newt asked tentatively.

Anathema shut the fridge and sighed. "No, not really." She was still getting used to not just being a descendant anymore, and she had the feeling that going home wouldn't help her with that. And she still hadn't told anyone in her family about the second book, and she knew they'd be furious if they found out about it. Her relationship with the rest of her family had always been strange enough as it was, given that she was the one mentioned in Agnes's prophecies. If they found out she'd also burned Agnes's second book, she didn't even want to think about what that would do to it.

Anyway, it was nice to spend Christmas her own way, and if that meant spending it in the company of the descendant of the man who killed her ancestor, a former psychic, a former Witchfinder sergeant, the Antichrist and his other eleven-year old friends, an angel, and a demon, then so be it. There were worse people to spend a holiday with.

Anathema went to leave the kitchen and almost bumped into Newt, who was apparently planning the same thing. He quickly shifted to the side to let her pass, then he looked up and gulped. Anathema followed his gaze to see that one of Madame Tracy's sprigs of mistletoe was taped to the wall above them.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to," Newt said quickly.

"Do you want to?" Anathema asked.

Newt blushed, which Anathema figured was probably as good an answer as anything else she might get.

"Well," she said, "it _is_ tradition," and she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Newt's.

Maybe, she thought as they kissed, she'd leave up all of the excessive mistletoe that Madame Tracy left behind after all.

* * *

"Crowley, you're going to discorporate us!"

"Before, you were complaining that we were going to be late," Crowley complained as he took a hairpin turn at an unholy9 speed. "Now, you want me to go slow?"

"I want to make it there alive!" Aziraphale shrieked. "And we- WATCH OUT FOR THAT CHILD!"

"I'm not going to hit a kid," Crowley dismissed. "Especially not on Christmas Eve."

"If you don't _slow down_ , you just might!"

"If I slow down, we won't make it to Tadfield in time," Crowley countered. "It's your fault for spending so long picking out a bottle of wine."

"If you'd been on time-"

"Oh, come on, angel, you know I'm never on time. That's on you for not telling me to be earlier."

"And what good would _that_ have done?" Aziraphale asked in a distinctly tetchy voice. "I thought you were never on time."

"If you told me to be there at ten," Crowley explained, "I'd have been there at half past. But you told me to be there at half past, so I was there at eleven."

"Oh, so I ought to tell you to be there half an hour earlier?" Aziraphale's voice was even tetchier. "That's more reasonable than you coming on time?"

"More realistic, at least," Crowley agreed. "Anyway, if we're a little late, that's alright. It's a _party_. It's not like they close the doors after we hit the starting time."

"Perhaps, but being late is _rude_!"

"All the better, then."

"Crowley!"

"Fine," Crowley huffed, "I'll do my best to get us there on time. But that means you need to stop complaining about my driving. If you want us there fast, I'm going to have to drive fast."

Aziraphale hesitated. "As long as you promise not to hit anyone."

Crowley held up a hand, prompting Aziraphale to let out a terrified squeak. "Demon's honor."

"Demons don't _have_ honor."

"This one does, and he's swearing by it. Good enough for you?"

"Oh, I suppose, but _do_ be careful!"

Crowley rolled his eyes, but he did slow down a tiny bit, just enough to be entirely certain he wouldn't hit anyone. He didn't, of course, and the Bentley pulled up in front of Jasmine Cottage without so much as a scratch and nearly fifteen minutes early. Aziraphale had white-knuckled the seat the whole way there, of course, but to his credit, he hadn't complained again. He did look pleased to get out of the car, though, and he quickly gathered up an armload of presents from the back and headed to the front door. Crowley picked up the rest of the gifts and followed him.

"Aziraphale!" Anathema said as she opened the door. "Crowley! You're here!"

"Merry almost-Christmas, my dear," Aziraphale said, beaming at Anathema. "May we come in?"

"Of course," Anathema said, stepping side. Aziraphale entered the cottage without a problem, but Crowley stopped short on the doorstep.

"I can't go in there."

"Why not?" Aziraphale asked, frowning.

Crowley jerked his head up, and Aziraphale followed the motion. "Ah." He turned to Anathema. "My dear girl, would you mind awfully if I removed the horseshoe above your door? Just for the duration of our visit? I'm afraid it'll make it dreadfully unpleasant for Crowley to come through the doorway."

Anathema blinked. "I didn't even know there _was_ a horseshoe up there," she admitted. "Go ahead."

Aziraphale waved a hand, and the horseshoe vanished. Crowley stepped into the house and gave a theatrical little shudder. "The effect's still there," he complained. "Not as strong, but it's there."

"It'll go away," Aziraphale assured him. "Now that the horseshoe is gone, the effects will follow. Anathema, where should we put our gifts?"

"I guess you can put them under the tree," Anathema said. "We weren't really doing a gift exchange, though. We don't have anything for you two."

"Oh, that's quite alright," Aziraphale assured her, settling the gifts down under the tree and gesturing for Crowley to do the same. "Giving things to others is its own gift, isn't it?"

"You say that now, but I bet you'll be singing a different tune when I give you your Christmas gift," Crowley muttered, thinking about the box of priceless scrolls tucked away in his apartment.

"I do hope it's not a problem that we're early," Aziraphale said to Anathema, as if Crowley hadn't spoken at all. "To be honest, I rather thought we were going to be late, but thanks to Crowley's driving, we made up the time."

"Oh, it's fine," Anathema assured them. "Newt is finishing up in the kitchen, and the others should be here soon. Everyone will be glad to see you."

"And we'll be very glad to see them too," Aziraphale said, beaming. "Won't we, Crowley?"

"Whatever you say, angel," Crowley replied. "Should we break out the alcohol?"

"Oh!" Aziraphale perked up. "I'd nearly forgotten! Anathema, Crowley and I brought some wine and cider to mull. I do hope everyone will enjoy it. The supplies are in the car, I'll go fetch them."

Before Anathema could say a word, Aziraphale bustled out of the house and back to the Bentley. Crowley followed him out with his eyes, then he turned back to Anathema.

"Quite a bit of mistletoe you've got up here, Book Girl."

"Madame Tracy put it up," Anathema replied. "And my name is Anathema."

Crowley shrugged. "Book Girl is easier to remember."

Anathema rolled her eyes just as Aziraphale entered the house, holding a large shopping bag that Crowley knew was full of wine, cider, and mulling ingredients. "Where should I put this?" he asked, holding it up like it weighed nothing, which Crowley knew for a fact was not the case.

"The kitchen is fine," Anathema said. "And tell Newt to come on out."

Aziraphale disappeared into the kitchen, and a moment later, he left with Newt at his side. Crowley looked above them and cackled.

"You're under the mistletoe, you two. Give us a kiss."

Newt looked panicked, but Aziraphale just leaned over and kissed his cheek cheerfully. "Oh, I do love mistletoe. It's such a charming tradition, isn't it?"

"Adam was glad you two agreed to let us put it up," Anathema replied. "Madame Tracy went a little overboard with it."

"Oh, nonsense," Aziraphale replied. "It's lovely."

There was a banging on the door after that, and Anathema went over to open it. Adam, Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale spilled into the living room, followed by Madame Tracy and Shadwell. There were greetings all around, which Crowley stayed out of the best he could, and then everyone settled down on the couch and chairs. Aziraphale and Crowley ended up squished together on a large armchair, which seemed to have been engineered a bit, but it wasn't like Crowley _minded_. Aziraphale was beaming at everyone, and his angelic love emanated a cozy warmth that Crowley enjoyed more than he was willing to admit.

Maybe this party would be nice after all.

* * *

After eating excessive amounts of food and opening the presents Aziraphale and Crowley had brought, the party began to wind down. Anathema was curled up in an armchair, flipping carefully through the book of spells that Aziraphale had given her10, when she heard Adam call, "You two are under the mistletoe! Now you have to kiss!"

She looked up to see Aziraphale and Crowley standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Aziraphale holding a tray of mulled wine and cider. Crowley gave off the impression of being a sunglasses-wearing deer in the headlights, while Aziraphale looked slightly puzzled, presumably by the aura of panic that Crowley was visibly giving off.

"Well, I suppose-"

"No," Crowley said, leaning away from Aziraphale as he leaned in to give him a kiss. "No way."

"It's traditional," Madame Tracy called. "You have to."

"My dear boy," Aziraphale said, "it's not-"

"I said no," Crowley snapped. "It's a stupid tradition anyway."

"Um, guys-" Anathema began, a little worried about what was about to happen in her kitchen.

"It's just a kiss," Adam said in his annoyingly reasonable tone. "It's not like you're getting _married_."

"I sssssaid," Crowley hissed with a tongue that Anathema swore looked forked, " _no_."

And with that, he stomped out the back door, leaving a burst of cold air in his wake.

"Oh," Aziraphale said, looking suddenly crestfallen. "Oh, dear. I-" He set down the tray of wine and cider. "I ought to go- I should- I'll be right back, my dears," he said, and with that, he disappeared after Crowley.

"Well, _that_ didn't go well," Anathema said, hoping she sounded more dry than worried.

"Oh, dear," Madame Tracy sighed. "And we all thought it would."

"I still think it might," Adam said sagely. "Just give the two of them a bit of time."

"You're not…" Newt wiggled his fingers in what was clearly supposed to be a symbol of magic.

"I don't think I need to," Adam replied. "I think they can figure it out."

Anathema looked out the window, where Aziraphale was slowly approaching Crowley, and hoped Adam was right.

* * *

"Crowley?"

Crowley huddled up a bit tighter in his jacket, pulling his shoulders in. "Go back inside, angel. I'll be back in a moment."

"Crowley, I'm-" Aziraphale hesitated, then he continued, "I'm _worried_ about you. My dear-"

"Just _go_ , Aziraphale," Crowley snapped, resolutely refusing to turn around.

"I rather think I won't, actually," Aziraphale said. Crowley could hear him taking another step forward. "My dear, what was on Earth was all that about? Mistletoe is simply-"

"What?" Crowley demanded, whirling around. "A tradition? A joke? Well, maybe I don't want to kiss you as a _joke_ , angel, ever thought of that?"

Aziraphale blinked, looking slightly stung. "If you find the thought of kissing me so repulsive-"

"Ugh, how can you be so _daft_ sometimes?" Crowley cried. "It's been six thousand bloody years, and you've still never picked up on it."

"Crowley, I don't-"

"I _do_ want to kiss you," Crowley admitted in a burst. "Just not as a joke. Not just to fulfill some stupid tradition. I want to kiss you because I've been ridiculously in love with you for _six thousand years_ , but I know it's stupid, and I know you'll never love me, so-"

"I don't appreciate being told what my own feelings are," Aziraphale said, a bit stiffly.

"Oh, come off it," Crowley huffed. "You're an angel, I'm a demon. Honestly, I dunno how I managed to fall in love with you, but the Almighty likes screwing with me too much to ever make it anything more than a stupid one-sided crush."

"Well," Aziraphale said, "I'm not quite sure what the Almighty thinks, but I can tell you what _I_ think." He took a tentative step forward. "I think- Well, I haven't known for nearly as long as you. Only seventy-eight years, which seems fairly paltry compared to six thousand. But I know I've felt it longer than that, I just didn't want to admit it to myself. You know how frightened I was. I've never been particularly brave."

"Angel-"

"But you've said it now," Aziraphale continued, "and I suppose that means I ought to as well. I love you too, my dearest Crowley. I am, as you say, ridiculously in love with you. And I can't speak to the Almighty's opinion on all this, but I must admit… I'm not sure I _care_. I love you. I want to kiss you, not as a joke or a tradition, but because I've been wanting to do it for nearly eight decades." Aziraphale took another step forward, until there was hardly any distance between them. "There's no mistletoe out here, but I think you rather owe me a kiss, don't you?"

Crowley leaned forward, but found himself hesitating just before his lips touched Aziraphale's. He'd wanted this for so long, but now that he was actually on the verge of getting it…

But even though Aziraphale didn't consider himself to be brave, he was braver than Crowley, because he didn't hesitate one bit.

And if the light snow that began to fall on the kissing couple had anything to do with the Antichrist who was peeking through the window at them… Well, he wouldn't tell if you didn't.

* * *

* * *

1 All three of which were tartan, of course.[return to text]

2 In the few months since Madame Tracy and Shadwell had moved to a small bungalow in Tadfield, Anathema had had more awkward conversations about sex than she'd ever wanted to have, ever.[return to text]

3 She also made a mental note to show the Them some Hallmark Christmas movies at the first opportunity.[return to text]

4 He was always unbearably smug when Crowley's arguments and snide comments turned around into agreements. Crowley hated that it was so damn cute, but that hatred didn't stop him from engineering that exact scenario sometimes, just to see the look on Aziraphale's face.[return to text]

5 Fireworks that would prove to be almost miraculously safe, of course, and would never cause a single injury no matter how badly handled.[return to text]

6 This was despite the fact that the group had already discussed them multiple times, and Madame Tracy in particular had a habit of sighing and saying "poor dears" whenever they were mentioned. Apparently, Shadwell had never put all the very obvious pieces together. Then again, Anathema was fairly convinced he still thought Crowley was in the Mafia.[return to text]

7 Which he ate in one snake-like gulp, to Aziraphale's horror.[return to text]

8 And knowing that the candles knew exactly what Crowley would do to them if they dared start a fire in the shop.[return to text]

9 No pun intended.[return to text]

10 "I've had this… oh, at least a few centuries or so, but I think you'll get more use out of it than I ever did, my dear. These are _human_ spells, so I can't perform them. I have the book memorized anyway. You'll need to take quite good care of it, I'll explain exactly how-"[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> My writing tumblr is [here](http://winterskywrites.tumblr.com/), if you're interested.


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